Innocent Vengeance
by Quills and Scrolls
Summary: With Chosen One nowhere to be found, the Ministry corrupted, and Hogwarts and it students and Professor hostages. The burden falls to the Order to keep hope alive. With being so understaffed, Kingesly wondered just how long the Order had before it fractured.Fate and karama however turn drastically in their favor with the return of a former Hogwarts student, and muggle Avengers.


Disclaimer: The Avengers is property of Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Marvel Studios, Walt Disney Pictures, Joss Whedon, Kevin Feige, Zak Penn. Iron Man is property of Stan Lee, Larry Lieber, Don Heck, Jack Kirby, Marvel Studios, Fairview Entertainment, Paramount Pictures. Thor is property of Stan Lee, Larry Lieber, Jack Kirby, Marvel Studios, Paramount Pictures, J. Michael Straczynski  
Mark Protosevich, Ashley Edward Miller, Zack Stentz, Don Payne, Kenneth Branagh, Kevin Feige. Nor do I own _Harry Potter_ it is property of J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, (UK), Arthur A. Levine Books (US), Raincoast Books (CAN), Warner Bros., Steve Kloves, Michael Goldenberg, David Heyman, Chris Columbus, &, Mark Radcliffe, David Barron, J. K. Rowling . I own nothing I merely borrowing a group of fascinating characters. I will return them relatively unscathed…well I return them anyway. No money is made from this and no infringement of copyright is intended. This will be removed if contacted. This story is not for monetary gain but purely for enjoyment purposes. I claim no ownership with exception to my own original characters and ideas. All recognizable characters are not mine, merely my own creations.

Pairings: Steve /OC, Clint /Darcy, Pepper/Tony, Thor/Jane, Harry/Hermione, Ron/Lavender, Ginny/Neville

A/N: Deathly Hollows AU.

Summary: With Chosen One nowhere to be found, the Ministry corrupted, and Hogwarts and it students and Professor hostages. The burden falls to the Order to keep hope alive. With being so understaffed, Kingesly wondered just how long the Order had before it and karama however turn drastically in their favor with the return of a former Hogwarts student, and a group of muggle heroes.

An Order Centric fic.

Innocent Vengeance

Chapter One:

A Hero's Awakening

Lavender Brown awoke to chaos; Pavarti was standing over her bed, her caramel colored skin ashen with fear. Beneath the sturdy oaken frame of her bed, the stone floor rumbled ominously, rattling the portraits and sending their inhabitants scurrying out of sight in search of news and safety.

"Lavender, get up—we're under attack." Pavarti spoke harshly; ripping the thick warm covers off her friend's stunned form. The cool midnight air bit into her sleep warmed skin, slapping Lavender violently back to reality. Lunging out of bed, she jammed her feet into her dancing unicorn slippers, grabbed her wand from the bedside table and shouldered past Pavarti to the door.

Pavarti rambled something about Harry, Hermione, and Ron, while following Lavender down the curving staircase and into the common room. The once silent tower was now in utter chaos with the sound of bare feet slapping against flag stone steps, terrified cries, and the resounding cracks and blasts of battle. As she boarded the Hogwarts Express on September the first, Lavender had frantically searched the train for a glimpse of Ron's copper hair, the titer of Hermione's scolding, or Harry's calm and reassuring voice. She had been left with bitter disappointment, with only one look at Ginny Weasley—Lavender knew the war had finally begun. And idly she had wondered when Hogwarts would be rocked by the impact, without Dumbledore or Harry—the only line of defense would fall to the disbanded DA and the Professors.

Lavender couldn't help but feel disquieted. This was why she had searched out Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley on the train. By the time they had reached Hogsmead station, the DA had been reinstated and plans had been made. It wasn't much, but it was the best they could do. The first meeting was held four days later in the Room of Requirement.

Neville—in desperation—even took to writing his Gran, beseeching her to send him defensive spell books. A week later Augusta sent her grandson a bulging package filled to the brim with books on defensive spells and wards, and as a present to Neville a book on Defensive Herbology. Neville had been stunned by his Gran's pride and overwhelming support in him, as she had always raised him with a firm hand—always bemoaning how he was so little like his brave parents. So Neville was practically beaming with pride when his Gran had sent him package after package of helpful items she found in Diagon Alley, even going as far as to send his uncle Algae to magical shops as far away as Budapest. It seemed no all that training was going to be put to the test.

Beneath her feet the stairway rumbled and shook, nearly sending the two seventh years toppling end over end down the unforgiving stone steps. One arm braced against the wall and the other thrown out halting Pavarti's momentum, Lavender felt her blood boil. To attack an adult was one thing, they at least had a hope of defending themselves, but to target children not yet old enough to properly defend themselves was cowardice. Dragging her palm along the curving stone wall, Lavender hurried down the remaining steps and sprinting headlong into the common room.

Normally at this time of night the Gryffindor common room would be empty, bathed in darkness and the low flicker of flame in the hearth. Tonight was by no means a normal night, while the fire was still weak, the candelabras on the wall where blazing brightly, casting the tower into shadow. Neville, Ginny, and Seamus were nowhere to be seen, in fact the room was empty with the exception of a cluster of about twenty, first and second years, was huddled together in their pajamas by the flickering fire—sobbing and trembling in terror. With grim determination, Lavender turned on her friend.

"Neville, Ginny, and Finnegan, where are they?" she demanded, her normally giggly brown eyes thin and vengeful as they ticked around the common room. Fingers flexing tightly over her wand, Lavender released a muted growl. No one messed with her home and escaped her wrath.

"Seamus and Neville took all the sixth and seventh years they could wrangle out into the grounds. Ginny, is rounding up the Huffelpuff first years. They want us to do the same for Ravenclaw." The small Indian girl spoke grimly, and wrung her hands—which Lavender knew to be suppressed anxiety over getting to her twin Ravenclaw sister, Padma. Lavender sympathized, but her mind was consumed by Longbottom, Finnegan, and Ginny Weasley; who had become like surrogate siblings during their time in the DA—that were now fighting murderous death eaters. Who wouldn't hesitate to kill them, especially if it would earn them Voldemort favor. While Neville, Ginny, and Seamus were decent duelers due to Harry's tutelage, they were by no means ready for a confrontation with Death Eaters, with more than twice the experience.

"And Slytherin?" Lavender questioned.

Pavarti's smile was grim, onyx eyes cold. "What about them?"

She snorted, Lavender had no doubts the Slytherin House was well informed about the late night siege on the castle, and were safely incased in their dungeon common room. The bloody bastards. So help Malfoy, Crabb, or Goyle if she ever saw their traitors faces again.

"Right, but we can't take them into the battle. They're bloody well terrified—and they should be. No, we are not strong enough to protect them, and duel Death Eaters." Lavender paused, glancing down at the small group of children and knew there was no way she could safely take them into the battle. Pavarti opened her mouth to argue, but Lavender waved her off with a muttered "Thinking.".

With the Floo network on school grounds was stringently monitored, and completely traceable this was the safest—and only remaining option. Pursing her lips Lavender summoned a nearby potions book with a swirl of her wand, catching it easily. With a weak-resigned- sigh, Lavender tapped the tip of her wand to the spine of the worn text, and whispered, "Portus "

The plain-scared and stained- blue cover shimmered a bright gold and hummed slightly against her fingertips. "Alright, come along…come on—we don't have all day—move your bums! Buggering hell!—move it!" she snapped jerking and dragging the first and second years into a tight-cramped- circle on the thick burgundy and gold area rug. A small blonde girl—clad in Chuddley Cannon pajamas—whimpered as the seventh year drug her across the rug by the collar. The seeker rooming around the collar of the red pajamas cried out in protest—waving his fist angrily until she; finally release the girl's pajamas. With one threatening shake of his fist, he once again took off in pursuit of the snitch.

Dropping the book in the center of the circle with a loud slap, she pushed a few of the kids closer together. Wedging them in shoulder to shoulder, there was no time for more than one trip and while it would make for an awkward painful landing—there was others to rescue—the bruises would heal the scars from seeing the destruction done by those sodding death eaters—would not. Lavender knew she was being harsh but with every wasted moment was costly, and scared whimpers were better than being on the receiving end of Cruciatus Curse that the death eaters would surely bestow upon them. Cruel words, they could recover from. It was cold, but at the moment she had no time to coddle.

She'd apologize, once everyone was safe. Ignoring Pavarti's glare, Lavender continued to bark out orders.

"Alright, everyone touch a finger to the book. Everyone knows about port keys right?—good, don't worry it'll take you some place safe. Tell them Lavender and Pavarti sent you, and that Hogwarts is under attack. Don't forget, you must tell them! Now touch the book, its okay, yes I promise—good now don't let go, okay? You'll be safe, promise." Cowering slightly under Lavender's cold gaze, the young Gryffindor's lunged forward securing a fingertip to the decade worn tome.

"Lavender—" Pavarti scolded, but she cut her friend off with a swift wave of her hand— as she mentally counted down the seconds. By the time she reached five, the book glowed brightly—causing the cold stone floor to hum beneath their feet—tethering the young students to the port key by and invisible force, and with a crescendo of frightened squeals they spun out of the common room and to the safety of the Order.

"Come on, we must go—find all the fourth years and lower and port them out of here." Lavender ordered swiftly, as she gave the common room one last searching glance before pivoting on the heel of her slipper and charging toward to portrait hole.

"Port key them to where?" Pavarti cried, as she stumbled along behind.

"You memorized the safe house list, for the Order—right?" Lavender demanded, shouldering the Fat Lady's portrait open and scrambling out into the candle light hallway. Shouts of 'Stupefy' and 'Confringo' echoed through the stone hallways. The battle it seemed had now reached the lower floors, there was now no time to spare.

"Yeah—" Pavarti began unsurely, her voice quiver slightly in fear. After all they had not been in the group that had gone to the Department of Mysteries, and this would be their second true battle. Their first having come the night Malfoy had brought Death Eaters into the castle. Despite that, Lavender still felt woefully unprepared.

Over Pavarti's shoulder, Lavender saw the Fat Lady cowering in her frame. Her perfectly quaffed hair wild and frizzy and her body trembled as she peeked out from behind the frame. They locked eyes, and with a trembling voice, she shrilly cried.

"Death Eaters, have breached the castle and they brought Dementors! You must hurry!" With that said, the Fat Lady fled from her frame in search of safety. Lavender scowled, and looked back to her now ashen friend.

"Head for Ravenclaw tower, I'll search the halls, and make my way to grounds." The blonde gripped her friends arm in a vice like grip, sharp nails biting into Pavarti's arm. Pavarti gasped, never had she seen her joyful friend exude such a cold matter of fact demeanor.

"But if you're spotted, you tag along for the ride. Don't play hero, no matter what get to safety—just be careful, Pav." Lavender whispered the last part softly, her worry for her best friend over shadowing—if only for the moment—her righteous anger.

That said, Lavender turned—barely making it two strides—before a blue swirling mist, floated around the corner and formed into a gracefully hopping hare. Luna Lovegood's Patronus. The hare stopped in front of the two, rising up unto its hind legs- blinking innocently up at them, before its small mouth opened and Luna's voice echoed around them.

"Some first years, heading for Hagrid's hut. Hurry!" And then with a graceful bound, the patronus dissolved. Destination known, Lavender smiled reassuringly at her best friend before pivoting on her heel and sprinting down the hall, and ducking beneath the tapestry leading to the stairs.

Her legs tingled and vibrated with adrenalin but Lavender pushed on, willing her feet to carry her faster. Bursting out from beneath another tapestry she vaulted out onto the platform. The stairwells were eerily empty, the flickering candles on the walls casting shadows upon the walls. The few remaining portrait people cheered her on as she sped past them.

"Send them ruddy bastards to hell, lassie!" an old gangly man roared after her.

She never paused, but continued her speedy descent. Flying down the steps, she leapt the trick step in a clumsy bound as she made for the greenhouse and the doors that would lead her to the grounds closest to Hagrid's. The dimly light halls were eerie at night and only enhanced the danger of the battle. Hogwarts had always been a safe haven, now it was tainted. Reaching the third floor, Lavender was forced to dive off the staircase, as a jet of purple light sailed toward her. The spell impacted the banister, sending an explosive shower of dust and stone. She grunted in pain as he shoulder impacted the unforgiving marble, and showered in bits of debris.

Another cry and another jet of light.

Dirty bastard, attacking their opponent while they were down.

Grabbling with her fallen wand, she reared up and grunted out, "Protego Horribilis."

The oncoming spell reflected off the shield, as she climbed unsteadily to her feet. Standing on the landing below her stood a hooded and masked Death Eater.

"Too frightened to show your face, to a girl!" she howled at him, her eyes narrowing into angry slits. Behind the mask she knew her opponent was doing the same. Twin icy blue eyes glared out through the eye slats of the slate mask.

Lavender knew those eyes, those same cold remorseless eyes of his son.

Lucius Malfoy.

When she had been dating Ron Weasley, Lavender had heard many tales of the older Malfoy and his distaste for all things Muggle or un-pure. As well as Lucius' distain for the 'Blood Traitor Wesley's'. While Lavender had no love for any Slytherin, and she had grown to hate the Malfoy's with a passion.

"Crucio!" The masked Malfoy roared.

Lavender quickly ducked down on her knees, the red bolt of light shooting over her head and colliding with a suit of armor, sending it toppling to the floor with an ear splitting crash.

"Impedimenta!" she returned, with a flourish of her wand, but it was flicked away by a swish of Malfoy's wand.

"You believe yourself skilled enough, to engage me in battle. Pha, foolish Gryffindor's always so blindly brave and so unthinkably stupid." Lucius growled, his voice taking on a gravely tone.

"Better bravely foolish, than a bloody coward!" Lavender crowed, scrunching her body onto the bottom step, using the narrow column as a small form of protection.

With a roar, a jet of light connected with the pillar shattering it into ruble. With a growl Lavender launched herself off the stairs and down the opposite flight that would lead her away from Malfoy. She bit her lip, what she need was a plan. Something rivaling Hermione Granger's brilliance.

Hermione.

Then she remembered one particular DA meeting, when Hermione had Harry teach them a fire blasting hex.

"Confringo." Lavender muttered to herself, and shivered slightly. She never had any desire to truly use this spell, or bare the guilt of the harm it would inflict. Now it seemed like her only option. Now if only she could get to a better vantage point, going back up to the landing was not an option, so she whimpered slightly, never did she think she would need this spell.

She could hear the slap of feet coming toward her, and with barely an option left Lavender hurled herself backward off the edge of the platform, as Lucius came into view. With a cold grin she raised her wand and roared "Confringo."

Wind whipped her sleep matted hair into her face, as she watched her spell finally connect. Lucius black death eater robes burst into beautiful orange and yellow flames. Unprepared for her attack, Malfoy screamed and toppled off the east end of the platform. A trajectory that would lead him to the ground floor and not the platform two floors below.

With some difficulty Lavender propelled herself around, so she could see the approach of her decent. She was close—too close maybe. Lifting her wand she muttered the spell like a prayer.

"Aresto Momentum!"

Eyes squeezed tight expecting impact, Lavender gasped as she landed gently on the cold marble.

"Miss. Brown!" Professor McGonagall gasped, from the landing a floor above hers. Lavender frowned; the older Professor hadn't been there a moment ago. McGonagall, managed to give her a reproachful look for her act of lunacy and still expertly hold off two death eaters. The older woman didn't even flinch as a flaming death eater flew by screaming agony and landed with a sickening crack on the main floor.

Scrambling up, Lavender fled down the last flight of stairs and into the heart of the battle. Ducking a rebounding jinx, Lavender shot a curse at the back of one of the death eaters creeping up on Hannah Abbot, a fellow DA member. Thick twines of silver rope flew from the end of her wand and bound the fiend, sending him toppling sideways and to the ground. With flick of her wand Hannah summoned his wand and jumped back into the fray. Ducking past Professor's Slughorn and Sprout as she headed down the final flight of stairs for the doors.

….

She'd missed this.

Darcy mused as she dangled her legs over the lip of the roof and swinging them childishly back and forth. Being back in the New Mexico desert was so much better than being sent half way across the world under the guise of assisting Jane, by giving her free run of an observatory in Tromsø. Jane had been ecstatic, Darcy had been downright suspicious. If there was one thing Darcy had learned growing up around her father was that no government agency did anything without an ulterior motive. This was exactly what she had told Jane when their SHEILD escort had seen them onto the jet.

Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb—as she had dubbed their two escorts—had frowned grimily at her while Jane had waved her suspicions away before immersing herself into her calculations. Knowing anymore protests on her part would fall on deaf ears—Darcy fell back into the age old routine of babysitting Jane and the few assistants SHEILD had provided. Making daily runs for coffee, lunch, and groceries, to keep her charges watered and fed. Darcy had even gracefully bared Jane's wrath like a champ—seriously she deserved a medal—when she had told Jane that the grocer had never heard of Pop Tarts.

Jane's good mood quickly took a downward turn after that. The usually mild mannered scientist had a total blowup Mel Gibson style—without the anti-sematic rant—on her interns over some miscalculation. That would set her back weeks or even months, or so she screamed at her cowering interns. The mystery of why Darcy had been the only applicant for the intern position, was—not a mystery anymore. Jane's temper reached a boiling point when Darcy's conspiracy theory had been proven correct. Livid however quickly turned into murderous when Jane had seen Thor—resplendent in battle armor and flowing crimson cape—doing battle with alien invaders. So much so Darcy wouldn't have been surprised if Jane spontaneously combusted.

After she was confident New York wasn't now an alien colony, Darcy had made herself scare. Only venturing out of her solitude to feed and water her friend, before retreating to the observation balcony. Where she would eagerly watch the star covered sky. When an emotionally spent, Jane finally found her—the night before their scheduled departure back to the home of the brave and strawberry Pop-Tarts—she had assumed her intern was finally developing an affinity for science. Darcy hadn't the heart to contradict her, so she spent the rest of the night listening to Jane lecture her on constellations; which inevitably lead—as all things now did—to Thor.

Early the next morning, bleary-eyed she and Jane had met Tweedle Dee and Dumb at the airport. Despite Jane's demands to be taken to New York, Tweedle Dumb had orders from SHEILD's to brass to deliver her back to New Mexico. Even letting slip—in frustration—that Thor was no longer Earth bound but had used the Tesseract to take Loki back to Asgard. Crushed Jane hadn't even fought her, when she had sent her off to the on board bunks for some shut-eye. Sending a glare toward her captures she made it her mission for the duration of the flight, to drive the Tweedle's to distraction. It seemed to work, by the two hour mark—during her loud and off key tribute to Journey—Dumb had fled to the cockpit and Dee escaped to the galley. Darcy didn't see hide or hair of them until the plane landed.

Cowards.

Hours later they were back in their SHEILD outfitted lab. Wanting nothing more than to fall onto her bed and sleep off the jet lag, Darcy knew with Thor's departure she'd be lucky to get any sleep in the next twenty-four hours. Jane was even more resolute to re-build the bridge between Earth and Asgard, to bring the big guy back. So the intern wasn't the least bit surprised when Jane rambled off theories and equations the whole way back from the airstrip.

What had surprised her was what had been awaiting them inside, the lab. The Avengers—minus Thor obliviously—had made themselves at home. Bruce Banner and Tony Stark were immersed in the mathematics scribbled across one of Jane's numerous white boards. Captain America—or Steve Rogers as he introduced himself—was scratching away at a sketch book. Clint Barton—or Jack-Booted-Thug-number Four, as she had named him when he had helped Coulson steel Jane's research—was seated at the small table cleaning his weapons. While Natasha Romanov quietly paced the facility end to end, pausing only to glance at the photo Darcy had snapped of Thor before resuming her circuit.

Jane's mood drastically improved when Cap—Steve had given her a small creased envelope, with her name written upon it slanting chicken scratch that was so obviously Thor's. Apparently it had been the Norse demi-god himself that had sent the team of misfits out to the desert. Everyone but Bruce and Tony would be leaving at dawn, but until then the Avengers were at their beck and call. With the arrival of the team It had taken Darcy hours to slip away from Jane, Bruce, and Tony as they had slipped into science psychosis; but after a quick dinner run with the Cap she had been able to slip up to the roof.

Turning back, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure neither super assassin had ninja stalked her up here. Seeing no one she rolled up the worn denim of her left pant leg and retrieved a long elegantly carved twig of gleaming rowan wood from the top of her boot. To the inhabitants down stairs, it would appear as nothing more than a carved twig of wood. Nothing special or attention grabbing, just a broken cast off from the latest storm. Never knowing that in the core of that broken cast of, was –in her case—was a dragon heartstring. After all what adult believed in magic, let alone a magic wand? Who in their right mind would believe a whittled piece of wood could be more dangerous than an M-16 or a grenade launcher.

When in reality it was a greater weapon than any they could ever hope to create. After all her wand had gotten her out of many a sticky situation—and cursed many a Slytherin. While her Taser was decent for a backup line of defense in the muggle world, it would be beyond useless against magic. Nothing short of dumb luck or an excellent marksman be able to take down a witch or wizard trying to do them harm. With the muggle population of the UK at risk—dozens having already be slaughtered—the Order of the Phoenix was bogged down. Dealing not only with Brittan's Prime Minister over the normal populace or the muggle-borns in hiding and placed in safe houses (procured by members of the Order).

Her jaw clenched, as seething anger and bitter self-loathing flowed through her veins. Here she was sitting safely atop a roof in New Mexico, gazing up at the brightly burning stars; while her family funneled muggle-borns to safety and fought for the freedom of the magical world. Sometimes, especially in moments like this, she couldn't help but hate herself.

Her fingers clenched around her wand, basking in the feeling of the familiar grain beneath her fingers. Allowing the slight vibration of warm magic reverberate through her palm and siphon away her poisonous emotions, leaving her relaxed and almost blissful. Darcy smiled slightly as she ran the pad of her thumb along the looping curves of the flower and ivy etchings. No one could ever say Olivander was anything short of an artist with wand crafting. Being able to craft something so powerful, yet soothing was an amazing gift, one she envied. Each of his creations was a work of art and completely unique, just like it wielder— or so he had told her on her eleventh birthday when she had bought her wand.

He never gave her reason to doubt him.

Using her free hand she dug into the pocket of her baggy sweatshirt and retrieved her old beat up purple I-Pod. Quite an ingenious cover, until the Thiever-of-the-I-Pod swooped in and swiped anything and everything with a hard drive. While her cousin Andra, had come up with a few ingenious spells that turned the disguised Wizarding Wireless into a true I-Pod in the presence of muggles, it was her one true connection to a home she loved more than anything. With her cousin's time monopolized by the Order, Andra had very little time to send word to her. So the portable wireless filled that gap, keeping her in contact with up to date happenings and war efforts. Cramming the buds into her ears, Darcy lifted her wand and tapped it lightly to the top and whispered,

"Fawkes."

The screen of the device remained blank, but the crackle of static gave way to, two very welcome and familiar voices. Darcy couldn't help but smile serenely.

"_By now you all must have heard of the attack,"_

"_Cowardly attack," _Lee Jordan—or 'River' as he was known to all Potterwatch listeners—coughed derisively.

"_The Midnight siege on—Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Those repugnant—repulsive—ruddy—dastardly Death Eaters attacked the castle in the wee hours of the morn." _Fred Weasley—Rodent or Rapier, depending on who you asked—spat in disgust.

Darcy's stomach lurched, the wireless nearly slipping out of her limp fingers and over the edge of the roof. No, it couldn't…this couldn't be…how could this have happened?

"No, God… no." she muttered softly, her mind whirling to her childhood playground, to her head of house tiny Professor Flitwick, and the poor children at the mercy of death eaters.

"_The school was valiantly defended by the dedicated staff and fearless Minnie McGonagall, and members of Dumbledore's Army under the leadership of Neville Longbottom. Bravely holding off those repugnant—repulsive—" _

"_Rodent—"_

"_Its Rapier—I've told yo—oh never mind—where was—oh right, the staff and DA members held of the Death Eaters long enough for Lavender Brown, Padma and Pavarti Patil, and Ginerva Weasley to Port Key dozens of younger students to safety. Brown and the Patil twins narrowly escaped capture by the Death Eaters, and are now on the run, and are considered undesirables by the Ministry."_

"_Quite rude really, calling them undesirables with Bellatrix Lestrange and Delores Umbridge still walk free." _Lee remarked wryly, and Darcy could almost see his strained cavalier grin_._

"_Quite right, River. We have also heard reports that Death Eater Lucius Malfoy was grievously injured in battle, by none other than Lavender Brown!"_ Fred very nearly cackled with glee.

Had she not been in a bleary state of shock, Darcy would have cackled with glee. The Malfoy family and the Norris-Lewis clan had never been big fans of the other. Lucius had only exacerbated things with her grandmother, when branding their predominantly pure-blood family, as blood traitors. That had gone over very poorly indeed, as three of her five children had married muggle-borns.

"_Ah I do so love witnessing the birth of a hero." _River sighed dreamily.

"_Yes indeed listeners, Lucius was set ablaze by the Confringo hex, and fell of the fifth floor landing. For all those keeping score that is five points for Dumbledore's Army! For style, ingenuity and flare we a _Potterwatch_ give it a 10.5!" _Fred cackled, through the ear buds.

"_He-he flare!"_ Lee snickered.

" _To the rest of the members of Dumbledore's Army, and our newest Undesirables, we at _Potterwatch_ salute you, keep fighting! And give them __**HELL**__! On that note faithful followers, __that brings us to the close of another _Potterwatch_. We don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials: the next password will be 'Prongs'. Keep each other safe. Keep faith. And support Harry Potter! Good night."_

With a fizzling crackle Potterwatch popped out of existence, leaving Darcy trembling. How—how could this have possibly happened? It seemed impossible. Hogwarts was a staple of the resistance in the first war, standing tall and untouched by the darkness. Or maybe that had just been Dumbledore's unflappable presence as headmaster. As one of the most formidable wizards in recent history no one dared cross him, the threat of his wrath alone was a deterrent to all with minimal sanity. Even the Dark Lord feared the grandfatherly wizard. Now—now Albus Dumbledore was dead, and Hogwarts had fallen without his guidance.

When her mother and step-father had begged her to leave their century old ancestral home, she had by chance encountered Dumbledore as he was leaving an Order meeting—and had expressed her desire to stay and fight. But Dumbledore gazed at her through his half-moon glasses, bright blue eyes twinkling knowingly, smiled and said, "_I believe you shall fight young Ravenclaw, but not now…not yet…but take heart—I feel you shall factor into ending this war."_

That said he swept past her, tweaking her nose, and disappearing out into the night—that had been the last time she ever saw Albus Dumbledore. Darcy left for her childhood home in New Jersey the next morning. Her family had encouraged her to wait to apply to the United Stated Magical Bureau—for Agent training, and think of attending college. Gain some life experience, the_ 'and grow up,'_ had been silent but Darcy knew it was there and their meaning was painfully clear.

Back then she'd wanted to refuse.

To go into battle and prove she wasn't a child.

That she could make a difference, and help turn the tide.

But to everyone she was a kid, even at twenty-one she was still seen as a little girl. Her cousin—Andra—is after all only a year older, and she was neck deep into horrors of war. Now after time to reflect and grow it was abundantly clear, they were right—as much as she _loathed_ to admit it. Darcy hadn't possessed the maturity required for battle. So she had applied to Culver University, not for the education but in her desperate search for balance and maturity. Ironically, she had found what she was looking for in a small desert town in New Mexico, with two slightly obsessive scientists.

For a while Darcy had felt guilty; after all joining the Order of the Phoenix had been her plan to being with. But something had been pushing her away from the war, she didn't know what and Andra had understood. Knowing if things ever got too out of hand she would leave everything behind to help in the efforts. Jane had just accepted her application, when news of Dumbledore's murder—at the hands of her old potions master, Severus Snape—had arrived.

She had been back on the Hogwarts grounds as quickly as possible, her bag packed ready to join the war efforts. This time it had been Andra that had sent her back to Culver, pressed the fake I-Pod into her hands and promised to contact her the moment she was needed. And while she hated to admit it, her family had been right to send her away—a year ago she had been unprepared and still a child at heart. While Darcy still clung to that innocent humor, she was now an adult. If Andra or the Order sent word, she would be there as soon as quick as a port key could carry her sorry ass, and God help any Death Eaters in her path.

Numbly she climbed to her feet, and moved sluggishly to the hatch. Her mind was spinning with the news silently sending up a prayer for the Professor's and students alike. The climb back into the lab was difficult with her noodle like limbs. Darcy was slightly surprised when the soles of her boots met the dingy, worn linoleum and she wobbled slightly. The voices around her turned to drones, like the distant hum of crickets. She must have looked completely glassy-eyed, because Jane appeared in front of her, clasping her shoulders and gazing at her in concern. 

"Darcy… good God, Darce what's wrong?" Jane's voice was shrill, as sure sign that she was about to come unglued.

The other occupants in the room froze, the dull humming of voices and activity bled away. Still in an almost trance like state, Darcy slowly turned her head to meet her boss's eyes and blearily responded.

"I gotta to go."

Jane frowned at her in concern, over her shoulder she could see the Avengers pause warily gazing at them. Whether they thought she had been taken over by an alien entity—which in their defense was not so out of the realm of possibility for them—and were silently assessing the situation. As much as Darcy wanted to snark at them, her limbs still felt like water and her mouth refused to cooperate with her brain. Her body however, had a mind of its own and were already swatting off Jane's hands and her legs began to move taking her across the room to where she had thrown her duffle bag hours earlier. Quicker than she could blink a burnish of red streaked into her line of sight, coming to a halt in front of her. The Russian gazed at her, blank faced. The red heads body language however spoke clearly, screaming _pass at your own risk_.

Normally Natasha would scare the pants off her, but presently she was in a mental fog and had more important things to deal with than a twitchy assassin. Apparently passing said twitchy assassin was a bad idea of epic proportions. The sharp crack smack to the face came as a surprise, and stunned her out of her stupor.

"What the hell, do you think you're doing?" Jane practically bellowed from behind her—marching toward the Russian with something akin to murderous rage glinting in those bambi eyes. Natasha paid the irate scientists little mind, choosing instead to glare down her prey. Silently daring Darcy to move or even breath.

Sadly for Natasha, she had missed judged Darcy Lewis.

_Nobody_ threatened, or accosted her and walked away unscathed.

Hordes of cowardly Slytherin's could attest to that.

And Darcy's fight or flight instincts kicked in and her wand rose.

Natasha eyed her wand dubiously, as if she was silently questioning the sanity of an intern pointing at her with a stick. That confusion was quickly remedied.

"Levicorpus!" With a graceful swirl and flick of her wand, a jet of yellow light struck the Avenger in the gut. Jane gasped, behind her as the red head was lifted off her feet, turned upside down and suspended by an ankle. The lights around them flickered, dimmed, and finally fizzled out. Darcy silently cursed herself. Magic + Electricity= blackout. Luckily it was still early evening, and the setting sunlight light the inside of the lab. Even luckier for Stark, the arcreactor in his chest still glowed bright blue. Another point for all natural energy even magic could throw on the fritz. Behind her the Avengers reached for their weapons, she heard the telltale sound of a bullet sliding into the chamber, and the click of the safety being flicked off. "Don't touch me." Darcy ground out, glaring at her defenseless attacker. Natasha cold, lethal eyes glared back at her venomously and cursed her in violent garbled Russian. Darcy highly doubted she was being complimented for her resourcefulness. And she couldn't help but compare the spy to a hissing, spitting cat that had been dumped into an unwanted bath. All angry eyes and quite growling hisses. Not wanting a bullet in her back however she released a deep sigh, and righted the glowering assassin with a twirl of her wand. Natasha landed squarely on her feet; it was due only her cat like reflexes that saved her from landing on her ass. Her secret blown—and boy was her cousin going to ride her ass over this—she used a quick summoning charm and her duffle flew through the air and into her waiting hand. Barton, no doubt still holding a gun on her back called out an inquiry to his partner. Romanov—still eyeing her with deadly promise—reassured her guard dog she was unharmed. "Holy Fuck!" Tony exclaimed. Darcy fought not to roll her eyes, even with her back turned she could see his practically gob smacked expression. "Guh!" Cap gasped. "What the hell?" Bruce muttered to himself. All very valid questions, ones Darcy had no time to answer. While she would love to bask in their fish out of water expressions, time was of the essence. Turning toward a flabbergasted Jane, she reached out and squeezed her friends shoulder. "I gotta go boss." "G—go—go where?" Jane managed to sputter again. "And—how—how in hell did you do that?" "Yeah, I second that question." Tony Stark piped up, drawing an irritated glower from Darcy. For his part the billionaire now looking calm, cool, and collected—except for the slightly wary gleam in his eye. Darcy pursed her lips. "I don't have time to explain. I really wish I did, or that I could…but as it is the USMB can toss me in prison for this. So quicker I get outta dodge the better." "No," Jane declares stubbornly stepping into her path as she tries to go around her. Darcy scowls, readjusting her bag on her shoulder. Tapping her foot expectantly she expects her boss to move, when it finally clicks in that super smart brain of hers that simply refusing to move is not going to stop her. But Jane doesn't move, her hard determined eyes never waver. Aw damn it; she doesn't have time for stubborn Jane. "Jane, you don't understand. I need to leave…now." Darcy insists releasing her shoulder. "Aw hell no," Stark burst out again, drawing to laser like glares from scientist and intern alike. He didn't flinch or recoil like a sane human being, but only grins back unrepentantly. "Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do. Before we let you out of here." He shook a mocking reprimanding finger in her direction. Darcy snorted, never so tempted to turn a muggle into a baboon as she was at that moment. "You really think you can stop me, Fred? I can be in Siberia before you could blink. Ain't nothing you can do to stop me." "Fred! Hey! There is—no way!" Tony cries affronted, "I'm so Ricky—" "Tony!" Steve snapped, still eyeing her warily. Beside him Barton is still ramrod straight, his gun leveled on her. Tension practically radiated off of Barton in palpable waves. "Hey William Tell, mind stowing the weapon?" she snarked shoulder her duffle. Barton didn't lower his weapon, but he did give a slight twitch of annoyance. Under normal circumstances she would have basked in irritating a seasoned agent so thoroughly, but she was quickly reaching the end of her patience. She shot the Cap a demanding look, to curb his teammate. At the enquiring eyebrow, Steve reaches over and pushes Clint's arm down—in desperate attempt to keep the situation from escalating. "You know what, this has been…interesting. But, I gotta fly. You know got see a guy about a Dark Lord." Darcy gave them a small mocking salute and turned striding resolutely for the door. 


End file.
